


Clandestine Operation

by SidheLives



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, Caring, Double Agents, Enthusiastic Consent, Espionage, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Kissing, Love, Neck Kissing, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rarepair, Sex, Smut, Sneakiness, Sorry for all the Elvish, Spies & Secret Agents, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheLives/pseuds/SidheLives
Summary: "What about the Wolf himself? Does anyone know where he is?"-Post-Trespasser. The Inquisition, in an effort to learn more of Fen'Harel's plans and movements, placed one of their own in the wolf's jaws, not knowing she was already in his heart.Written for Smutquisition 2021
Relationships: Merrill/Solas (Dragon Age)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 1
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Clandestine Operation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barbex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/gifts).



It was odd, coming back to Kirkwall. Being surrounded by stone once again gave Merrill a queer feeling in her stomach, and she couldn’t help marveling at the slowly reforming skyline of the city. The destruction caused by the Qunari invasion and the Mage Revolt were being patched up after years, and she was impressed by what Varric had been able to accomplish. It was no wonder they had made him Viscount. The streets seemed less crowded than she remembered, but more friendly. People jovially called out to each other by name and pleasantries were exchanged along with coin. Living through so much had brought the surviving citizens of Kirkwall closer together. Merrill had worried that this new comradery would mean her darkly cloaked form, clinging close to the walls, would stand out, but it seemed elves were still invisible to the populace, even when their distinguishing features were hidden under deep hoods.

It was a quick walk from the inn in Hightown to the Viscount's Keep, which was one of the reasons she had chosen it, and she slipped into the impressive building without attracting much attention: the guard presence at the keep being much reduced due to the removal of the Templars and the rebuilding efforts. The new Viscount was much more concerned with the safety of his people than that of his person.

Merrill headed straight for the Viscount's Office, as had been arranged through dead drop notes, and found the Seneschal gloomily guarding the door, the irritated tilt to his brows familiar from her days following Hawke around. “Viscount Tethras is not taking any complaints today,” he said with a gesture for her to halt as she approached the door.

“I have an appointment,” she told him flatly, chin pulled down to keep her face and vallaslin hidden in shadow, holding out a folded piece of vellum which bore the seal of Kirkwall.

Bran rolled his eyes with a disbelieving sigh and took the paper from between her fingers. As he broke the seal and read, Merrill watched his eyes widen. He looked up at her again and she pulled her hood tighter about her features. "I have been informed that you are expected," he gestured at the door. "Go ahead."

"Thank you." Merrill dipped in a mini curtsy, then brushed past the shocked man through the door, closing it firmly behind her and throwing the lock. She knocked softly at the next door, the one which led from the anteroom to the office proper, and it was thrown open before she dropped her hand.

"Daisy!" Varric grinned. "About time you showed!"

Merrill threw her hood back and shook out her hair, grown out long enough to brush her chin as it moved. "Hello, Varric." She smiled warmly. "You look different. Have you done something with your hair? That's a joke, because my hair is so much longer now. I was planning it my whole walk over, but of course now I've got and spoiled it by explaining. Do you like it though?"

He laughed, gesturing her into the room. "You haven't changed at all, apart from the hair. It looks very nice." He closed the door behind her, snapping the lock with a firm  _ click _ . "Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?"

"Oh, no thank you." Merrill waved him off. "I've been riding. Do you do much riding? I suppose not what with all the work you've got to do in Kirkwall. But it's quite a lot of sitting and bouncing and makes my behind sore something awful so I'd much prefer to stand."

"And the drink?" He asked with a bemused smirk.

"Water would be nice, if you have it. If you don't it's fine."

"I have water," he chuckled. He proceeded to pour her a glass from a carafe set in ice, clearly prepared for her arrival. Varric knew that she would want water, if she wanted anything at all. It was very like him to remember her preferences and to arrange to have them on hand. He held out the glass to her and she took it gladly.

"Much appreciated." She glanced around the room. "I remember those pillows from your room at the Hanged Man. They're much more comfortable than they look, I always liked that. Everything looking so fine but so useful, it was always a lovely escape from my constantly cluttered little apartment in the alienage. Do you still have that room or have you moved everything up here? It's such a big place, I'd get lost trying to find the kitchen every morning. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Varric settled into the large chair behind his desk and laced his fingers together on his stomach. "Don't stop on my account. I've been craving a good ramble."

Merrill smiled gratefully and sipped her water. "Reconstruction is going well?" She asked, wandering to the windows and peeking through the curtains. The sun was beginning to set and the city was washed in shining gold and blood red. 

"As well as could be hoped. The nobles—" he sighed frustratedly and shook his head. "You'd think the world almost ending would put things in perspective, but some people will always find a way to justify their selfishness."

"Change is hard but necessary. No one can move forward by staying the same," Merrill responded. She looked back at Varric to find him gazing at her curiously. "What?"

"Nothing, I agree with you. I'm just not accustomed to you being so succinct," he teased.

Merrill's cheeks bloomed and she cleared her throat. "The Inquisitor is well, I hope."

"I've heard nothing to the contrary," Varric confirmed. "I'm more concerned with how you're doing. Bran won't be able to keep the hounds off me forever."

"Right, report. That's what I'm here for," she reminded herself aloud. "There are five camps, that I know of. Two near the border of Tevinter, one in Southern Fereldan, one in Orlais, and another in the Marches. From what I hear they're all attracting growing numbers, especially those near the Imperium. Elven slaves defecting to the Dread Wolf's cause. Most of them have never held a knife before, let alone fought or spied or anything like that. The ones I've met, they're all just so grateful to have somewhere to go. This man I met, Theiron, he grew up in the alienage in Ostwick and terrified of everything, but he makes the most lovely berry crumble I've ever had—"

"Focus, Daisy." Varric cut her off.

"Right, sorry." She smiled bashfully. "I don't know numbers, I don't know that they trust me that much, but the Marches camp where I've been must have somewhere near a thousand elves, and more showing up every day. Some of them are children, runaways who heard there was safety in the woods, I feel so terrible for them. They've got so much anger and don't know what to do with it. They remind me of Fenris." Her eyebrows dipped as she frowned. "I do hope Fenris is alright. He was always gruff and could be terribly mean sometimes, but I liked him very much."

Varric leaned forward. "I'm sure he's fine. Knowing Broody, he's probably covered in eviscerated Venatori right now, living his dream."

Merrill laughed, then clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I shouldn't laugh, that isn't very nice. But it is funny." She laughed again. "I can picture him, grumpily removing intestines from his armor with that one particular grimace that always meant he was really happy but didn't want to show it."

Varric chuckled, equally familiar with the expression. "What about the Wolf himself? Does anyone know where he is?"

Merrill sobered and shook her head. "People are always asking after him, begging to meet him, but I've heard he never comes to the camps. He has lieutenants who run everything for him I guess. People gossip too, saying he's always moving, that he visits people in their dreams to give orders, that he's not in Thedas at all." She rubbed the back of her calf with the opposite foot. "The confusion seems to me to be constructed. Rumors spread on purpose to keep anyone from truly knowing anything about him. Last week I was told by a group of women doing laundry that he's not an elf at all, that he's a spirit that possesses different bodies as he needs them." She shook her head. "As if that's how spirits worked at all. Even in the Inquisitor's fascinating notes about the Avvar and their coexistence with spirits— oh, do make sure to pass on my thanks for those, I've been devouring them whenever I have the chance, but even then—" she caught sight of Varric's suppressed laughter and stopped herself. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

He spread his hands in a subtle shrug. "Maybe a little."

"Sorry," Merrill drank more water in a failing attempt to hide her sheepish blush.

Varric gestured, indicating he didn't mind, then pulled a quill from his desk and began hitting down notes. "So at least five camps you know of, and at least a thousand recruits at at least one of them," he reiterated, looking back up at her.

She nodded, holding her now empty glass in both hands. "And Fen'Harel isn't in any of them."

With a nod, Varric added that to his notes before fixing her with a serious look that made Merrill shuffle from foot to foot. Eyes too serious for Varric. "Are you safe?"

"Of course I'm safe. I told you, most of these people don't even know how to lift a blade let alone—" she started, but Varric cut her off with a raised hand.

"I mean, is anyone getting suspicious? Are you in danger of being discovered? Your connection to me and my connection to the Inquisition would be enough to raise some eyebrows, I would think. If snooping for more information is going to get you into trouble we could get you out now."

Merrill gaped at him in disbelief. He was serious, expression full of concern. She shook her head. "I'm tired of everyone underestimating me. I want to help, Varric. This is how I can help. Oh sure, people asked about Hawke and you and everything, but everyone seems much more concerned with your book than my allegiances. I've never even met the Inquisitor, and as far as anyone knows I haven't seen you in years. Although if you could send me some signed copies of The Tale of the Champion it might help loosen some tongues." She abruptly set her glass down on the desk and took his hand in hers. "I can take care of myself. I promise. You don't need to worry about me."

Varric squeezed her hand and sighed. "I knew it was a long shot, but you can't fault me for trying, Daisy. I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't worry."

She smiled warmly at him. "Everything will work out, I'm sure of it, and the world will be better for it. I mean, I know I can't know, but I've got a feeling."

He laughed. "I suppose I'll trust your gut on this one."

The room had descended into twilight as the sun traveled low on the horizon, and without really thinking about it, Merrill, with a wave of her hand and a brush of magic, lit the candelabra which sat on Varric's desk. The unconscious gesture, and the change in light that prompted it, gave her a start. "Oh, I have to go." She announced suddenly. She glanced to the door, then back to him, and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I lost track of everything. It's like that whenever I talk to you, or Isabela, or anyone from the old days. It's like time stopped sometime before the explosion and we're still at the pub having a laugh. I wish we got to do it more often, I wish all of us could get together again, well maybe not Sebastian. Is it bad that I don't miss him at all? I feel terrible about it honestly but I never much cared for him, I know you felt the same, but perhaps the rest of us could get together sometime. Might be hard to track everyone down though," she bit at her fingernails in thought. "Who knows where everyone has got to. You're the only person who seems to stay in one place, excepting those couple of years you were dragged off the Inquisition I suppose. Oh dear, I'm doing it again. Sorry, I swear I was late for my own birth and have never caught up."

Varric laughed and pushed to his feet, giving her back a gentle pat. "It's good to see you too, Daisy. Maybe someday we'll manage to track everyone down, and we'll all have a pint."

"You're lovely, Varric." Merrill put her arms around him in a quick, tight embrace. "I'm terrible at good-byes, so let's just say we'll see each other soon."

"Alright. See you soon, Daisy." His smile was sad and it made Merrill's chest tighten.

"See you soon, Varric." She threw the lock and slipped back out the way she came before she could start babbling again, or worse, start crying. She missed Varric, and all her friends, desperately, but what she was doing was too important to just walk away. Pulling her hood back up to hide her face, she slipped out of the anteroom and passed unnoticed by Bran, who was arguing with a well-dressed man about the Viscount's availability.

The streets were quieter as evening slipped into the night. The market had closed up and light burned from windows, turning the streets to patchwork quilts of shadow and light. Merrill clung to the walls, appearing for all the world like a slightly deeper shadow as she crept back to the inn. She would be gone from the city at first tide, never having stepped foot out of Hightown. She would leave the cellar, through the now nearly deserted Darktown and into a ship in the port which would return her to Ostwick, the same way she had entered the city. She wondered how the elves of the alienage, who she had lived among for years, were faring, but visiting them, exposing herself to any more of the city than she had to, was too big a risk to take.

No one raised an eye as she entered the inn and returned to her room which was wreathed in the darkness of night. As she stepped into the gloom, the door suddenly slammed shut behind her, and she felt the cold steel of a blade pressed to the soft skin of her neck. Merrill went completely still, barely daring to breathe, lest her throat press too hard against the razor edge.

" _ Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth’bellasa na _ ." The whisper came from just behind her ear, more breath than voice, too low to be identified.

" _ Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris _ ." She supplied the passphrase immediately, breathlessly, still too anxious to take breath.

" _ Amae Vhenan. _ " The relief in his voice was palpable, and the blade at her neck disappeared.

Candles all over the room lit at once and Merrill took a deep shaking breath as the previously foreboding space was cast in warm, comforting light. " _ Fenedhis _ , you scared the life out of me." She pressed a hand to her chest and turned to face him. "Who else did you imagine would be creeping in?"

Solas bowed his head apologetically. "I am sorry, but I had to be sure." He reached out and slowly removed her hood. "You are unharmed?"

Merrill's eyes flicked down sheepishly. "Yes, of course. I told you I would be. I only saw Varric and he would never hurt me, not intentionally, and if he did by mistake he would be terribly sorry about it."

"Good," Solas replied simply, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. She nuzzled into the touch, his fingers warm against the cool of her skin. 

Merrill gestured at the fireplace and the flames leapt higher. "It's dreadfully cold in here. Aren't you cold? You could have kept the fire going while I was away." She swept the cloak off her shoulders and tossed it onto the back of a chair as she headed to the hearth to add a log to the fire.

Solas shrugged, latching the door. "I did not wish to arouse suspicion. You checked in alone after all."

"I told them I wanted no cleaning, they didn't try to come in anyway did they?" She dusted off her hands on her leggings.

"They did not. If there had been a fire however they may have been curious enough to do so."

"You have too little faith in people," she tossed over her shoulder at him as she warmed her hands.

"Or perhaps you do not have enough," he countered. "It is human nature to wonder about things which have no reasonable explanation. The expected course of action in such cases is to either make up an explanation or to seek one out." He came up behind her and ran his palms up and down her arms, chasing more of the chill away. "In the case of a fire in a reportedly empty room, I have faith that the latter would be more likely."

Merrill smiled, eyes drifting up in thought. "That's a very good point, but most people also have a conscience, or at the very least they would be worried about being caught. That could be enough to make them reconsider and fall back on the former."

Solas considered this, one hand to his chin. "I suppose that is true. In either case, I avoided the quandary entirely by letting the fire burn out in natural course." 

Merrill chuckled. "You always have an answer ready for anything."

"I certainly try to." He smirked. "Did everything go to plan with Varric?'

Merrill nodded and, hands adequately warm, sat down to begin removing her leg wraps. "The Inquisition is as misinformed as you had guessed, well not misinformed, just uninformed. I told him there are five camps and he didn't question it at all. I suppose he could have been lying, putting on a blank face to not reveal anything, but I don't suppose he would have let me leave if he suspected anything was amiss. He was worried about me." Her hands stopped working and she sat suddenly very still, Varric's concerned features flashing before her eyes. "He asked me if I wanted out."

Solas kneeled before her, resting his hands gently on her knees. "Do you?"

Merrill blinked at him, the question catching her off guard. "Do I what?"

"Do you want out? Out of the subterfuge and sneaking about?" His expression was blank, not giving her any idea what he might be thinking.

"Why would I want out? I chose this."

"There is a vast difference between analytically choosing a course of action and acting upon that choice. It is one thing to say that you will lie to your friends, a very different one to do it." A slight dip in his brows shadowed his eyes in sadness. "I know what it feels like to deceive your comrades, smiling and laughing with them while working against them. To care for and wish only the best for people and at the same time acting in a way that may cause them injury."

She placed a comforting hand over his, the hurt in his eyes cutting like a dagger. "The Inquisition? Varric and the others?"

He nodded, shoulders falling dejectedly. "I would still consider many of them my friends, and every step I take against them cuts despite knowing that it is the right thing to do." His hands slid to her waist as he leaned into her body. "I would not wish such pain on you,  _ Vhenan _ . Your spirit is too bright to be dimmed by such shadows. I worry that you suffer this burden because you feel it is necessary, that you must, but you do not. I would not trust you, or love you any less if you were to cast it aside."

Merrill stopped him with a single finger pressed to his lips. "Hush,  _ Vhenan _ .  _ Te'telsila _ . I walk this path because I have  _ chosen _ it. Not for you, but for myself and for our people.  _ Vir'elvar raja nira'ha'lam. _ I do not do this because you ask it of me. _ Ar shivana _ ."

Solas didn't respond at first, studying her features with investigative scrutiny. " _ Ma sounel. Ma athim em. _ "

She shook her head. "I'm not any stronger than you or anyone else. Just stubborn." She smiled. "I know when I'm right. I was right back when I reforged the eluvian, no one else could see that I was, they all said it was dangerous and that I would be hurt, but I wasn't. And even if I had been, wouldn't it have been worth it? Being right doesn't make things easier, quite the opposite in my experience. That doesn't mean you decide not to be right anymore, you just work harder—"

Solas cut her off, pressing his lips to hers and her stifled sound of surprise turned to a pleased hum as she cupped his face in her palms. "What was that for?"

"For you. _Ara_ _harillasha panelan_." He kissed her again, hands sliding to her lower back, his touch reverent in its timidity. It was like he expected her to push him away, to reject his affection, to deem him unworthy of her attentions.

Merrill encircled him in her arms, the avaricious press of her tongue against his working to chase back the notion that he was anything less than what she wanted. His fingertips brushed the skin of her back between blouse and leggings, scalding hot and tauntingly featherlight as they pushed at the cloth of her shirt. It was the work of seconds for Merrill to remove the offensive garment, tossing it to the ground and taking his face between her hands to kiss him again, her forceful affection leaving little uncertainty about her intentions. Solas rubbed his searing hands up her bare back, setting her muscles aflame with desire, and she sighed amorously into his mouth, her eyes fluttering closed and teeth grazing his bottom lip in a silent request for more. Solas acquiesced, one hand curling around the back of her neck as the other snaked between their bodies to cup one of her pert breasts, fingers delicately massaging the supple flesh. She moaned softly and Solas kissed down her neck to her collarbone, fingers lacing into her mahogany hair as his lips found her breast and his tongue rolled over her nipple.

Her back arched and she mewled, clinging tighter to the rough wool of his tunic. Solas worked confidently over her body, every touch expertly placed to please her, so disparate from the fumbling hands of the young men and women of Clan Sabrae who Merril had experimented with in her adolescence. She felt her temperature rising, heat beginning low in her body and spreading through her limbs. Solas’s teeth grazed her skin and Merrill gasped, then whined as he pulled back to look at her face. There was concern, or perhaps it was curiosity, in his eyes as he studied her flushed face, heaving chest, and lust darkened eyes.

"Solas, make love to me," she told him, leaning in to kiss his neck just below his ear where the skin was soft and thin. "I want you inside me."

He shivered at her words, his heavy exhale humming with fervor, and buried his face in her shoulder, his tongue and lips moving over the heartbeat in her neck. "Here? He asked, lips against her skin. "Or on the bed?"

"The bed," she answered breathily.

Solas's arms tightened around her back and lifted her against his chest. Her legs wrapped around him, clinging to his back, taking the lobe of his ear between her lips and sucking softly, the way she knew he loved. He carried her to the bed, legs unsteady, and lay her down, placing a kiss on her sternum directly between her breasts. Merrill watched with half-lidded eyes as he peeled his tunic off, relishing in the way the firelight caught the muscles of his abdomen, then He crawled over her body. She ran her hands over his chest as he kissed her, the heat rolling from his skin making her shiver, and tugged at his waistband with two eager fingers. 

Solas chuckled and grazed his teeth along her ear. “ _ Sar pal'isalathe lasa'em morel? _ ”

Merrill grinned and wet her lips. “ _ Uth vin, ara vhenan _ .”

He kissed down her jaw as he sat up, his grey eyes fixated on her face as he rolled the waist of his leggings down his hips. Her lips parted as his length came free, tongue snaking over them again. He was erect and perfect, and her desire flared even stronger as he tossed the useless garment away.

" _ Ar isala ma _ ," she breathed.

His adept hands caressed the sinuous muscles of her stomach, fingers sliding under the little clothing she still wore. "And you will have me," he said, the words a vow on his tongue, and slid the pliant cloth down her legs, his fingertips brushing her skin from hips to ankles until she was completely bare. She watched his eyes pour over her body, watched the flick of his hungry tongue over his lips, then his eyes met hers and she watched as they transformed, lit by passion, into the eyes of a hunter. The Dread Wolf,  _ her _ Dread Wolf, descended on her with all the ferocity his title inferred.

Solas's hot breath and sharp teeth tasted her belly, her breasts, her neck. His ravenous tongue plunged in her mouth and his hands caressed her hips and thighs, close to but never where she truly needed them. She could feel his cock between her knees, radiating heat but just out of reach. Merrill groaned, back arching, and took his face between her hands biting savagely at his bottom lip. “Take me,” she begged.

He returned the ferocity of her kiss, using one knee to nudge her thighs farther apart, and swallowed her desperate moan as the tip of his cock slid inside her. She clung to his shoulders, taking her breath directly from his lungs as he thrust into her, filling her up to bursting with the heat of him. His strokes were long and controlled and emanated the insurmountable devotion he always showed her. Merrill felt every inch of his length as his cock stretched and worked her body, building a rolling fervor, not unlike the ocean against the shore. She was hot, melting under him, arms aching from the tightness of her grip, but still, she needed more. " _ Elvar'el _ ."

Merrill felt his spine stiffen, the movement of his hips stalling as a jolt of excitement shot through him at her request, then he slammed himself into her with the force of a winter gale. She shrieked, eyes and neck rolling back in ecstasy and her nails carving tiny half-moons into his skin. The room around them, the stinging of her heaving lungs, even the sound of her impassioned moans mixing with Solas's low, ardent sounds of pleasure evaporated in the sensation of his body within hers. Each thrust sent echoes through her bones to her skull, never fully passing before the next came. She was the rocky coast and he crashed against her over and over again until even her heartbeat was lost in the storm.

Solas pressed himself so deeply inside her that it broke through the torrent and she gasped, eyes snapping open to meet his lust fogged gaze.

" _ Vhenan _ , I—" he struggled to form the words.

"Yes," Merrill pulled him closer. "Yes, yes.  _ Re'isreun inor em _ !" She wrapped her legs around his back.

Solas's hips bucked, making her cry out again as his length somehow reached some even deeper recess of her body, and he pressed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sound. She felt him spill within her, white-hot, unbearable, and she poured the sound of her release into his kiss.

Neither of them moved for a time that could have been moments or hours. Merrill's mind felt like the inside of a butter churn and aftershocks of orgasm seemed to chase each other over her skin with no sign of abating. Slowly, other sensations returned: she could feel Solas's softening cock still buried deep within her, hear the heaving of their mutual heavy breathing, and see his loving, exhaustion glazed eyes.

" _ Ar lath ma, Vhenan _ ." His voice was soft, weak, but earnest and she smiled, somehow finding the strength to lift her arm and stroke his cheek.

"And I love you." She kissed him, a featherlight caress of her lips against hers. She felt drunk, sated, and overflowing with joy.

Slowly, as if every movement stole years from his life, Solas dismounted her. Merrill shuddered as he pulled himself free of her, another flood of aftershocks rocking her already unsturdy foundation. Then he pushed himself to the edge of the bed and stood on shaky legs.

"Solas?" Merrill sat up to watch him pad through the dark room. Come back to bed,  _ Vhenan _ ."

"In a moment." His voice was hoarse.

Merrill pressed one hand to her forehead, wondering what spirit had gotten into him to make him wander about naked instead of wrapping his arms around her. Then she heard water pouring from an ewer and the soft sound of Solas swallowing and her confusion dissipated. He refilled the cup and came to her side, placing it into her open hand. "Thank you." She smiled warmly, touched by his thoughtfulness, and drank. She emptied the cup and he took it back to set aside before climbing back into the bed and enfolding her within his arms.

They didn't speak, didn't need to. Merrill felt Solas's heartbeat against her back and she knew he could feel hers against his chest. The gentle but firm grip of his arms around her waist, the way her fingers laced with his against her stomach, the tender rub of her foot against his ankle: all these things spoke without words. After a few minutes, as the fire began to burn low and their sweat cooled, Solas pulled the coverlet over their forms, placed a kiss against her temple, and they fell asleep, cloaked in the knowledge that they were loved. Deeply, securely, and absolutely.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvish Translations:
> 
> Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth’bellasa na - Ingame dialog asking for a password. Translation something like “If you seek the rebellion, speak correct”  
> Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris - Ingame dialog responding with the password. Translation something like “I speak the lost/forbidden words. The path of freedom is unending”  
> Amae - Ingame dialog in response to password. I have no idea what it means.  
> Te'telsila - Don’t worry  
> Vir'elvar raja nira'ha'lam - The difficult path leads to the joyful destination.  
> Ar shivana - I do my duty willingly and joyfully  
> Ma sounel. Ma athim em. - You are strong. You humble me.  
> Ara harillasha panelan - My rebel/trickster warrior  
> Sar pal'isalathe lasa'em morel? - Is your desire for me so great?  
> Uth vin, ara vhenan - Forever yes, my love  
> Ar isala ma - I need you  
> Elvar'el - Harder  
> Re'isreun inor em - Come inside me


End file.
